Friday, August 21, 2009

Around my house, summers are just nuts. We have five wonderful kids ranging in age from 16 to 21. For years we've teased about adopting a kid for that missing year, which would mean an eighteen year old this year.

This summer has been crazier than some.

My daughter, who has always lived with her mother, moved in and intends to graduate with us. My son, who just finished his pharmacy tech degree moved to his dad's, but has been back and forth a couple of times. My other son lived at dad's last year for the school year. He returned as well. My oldest daughter with the menagerie thought she was moving out, but she's not.

So we are a family in flux.

Our pets, bless their hearts, are as versed at being flexible as we are. Our Shih'tzu, Sheltie mix and Border Collie mix wait eagerly at the door, a mass of wagging dog bodies from short to tall, to see who will enter. Usually, they only get the people who left, but they never know.

So what does this have to do with summer's end? Could I please have a little while longer to enjoy? No, it doesn't work that way.

Noticing where the sun sits in the yard in the late afternoon, I know summer is winding down. If I close my eyes and think really hard, I can smell the way my high school smelled when you walked in the front doors. GO MOJO!!! I sang, so my high school memories are full of of the PHS choir and my friends there. And with my own kids in school, three of them have chosen to be in choir, as well. I've been an active choir parent for the past few years, so once again, we'll be at booster club meetings, busy with all things choral as fall and winter approach.

Summer's end brings the end of days so hot you do all your work in the morning so you can melt in the afternoon heat. The monkey grass blooms, the lantana is full of orange flowers, the sheer number of birds begins to thin, and the electric bill goes down.

Today I'm wistful. I'd like another six weeks this year because it seems like we just got into the groove of things, grilling, relaxing, enjoying. I'm not ready to let go of the summer things, yet they slip through my fingers like wisps of memory.